


Slow Dancing

by Luciferine



Series: Straight on 'Til Morning Interludes [4]
Category: The Last of Us
Genre: Compliant Only to the First Game, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Lots of it, Written Prior to Sequel Release, ellie/joel if you squint, everyone knows the cure for latenight jitters is dancing around your bedroom at 3 am, theres a lot of unresolved feelings lets just leave it at that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 14:17:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3695465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luciferine/pseuds/Luciferine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ellie can't seem to get to sleep. Joel helps. One of the SOTM 'verse related shorts, set after 'Rivers and Roads'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slow Dancing

**Author's Note:**

> AN: For the Anon on Tumblr, who asked for a slow dancing fic. Set in SOTM 'verse, as more of a fluffy interlude than an advancement of plot. Set after Rivers and Roads. Thank you to all my readers, suffering the long wait on the edit. You guys are amazing, and it's coming, I promise. Warnings for intense, tooth-rotting fluff. Because these two deserve some happiness.

Joel wakes up to frustrated sighs and too much movement for whatever godforsaken hour it is. A quick glance at the window tells him that it's still too damn dark to be awake without any sort of emergency. He considers faking sleep until he manages to pass out again, thinking she might settle down. But Ellie huffs beside him and kicks off the blankets, and actually sounds  _upset_ , so yeah,  _he's awake_.

"What's wrong?" he asks, turning over so he's facing her. It's too dark to see details, but he can at least make out the shape of her, see how she freezes when she hears him talk. "Bad dream?" Usually he hears her cry out, wakes up in time to bring her out of it and get her back to sleep. He doesn't think he slept through anything, but he can't think of any other reason for her to be so agitated.

"Shit, I'm sorry," she says, and he can't hear even the slightest trace of sleep in her voice. She's been awake for a while. "I didn't want to wake you up, I swear. Go back to sleep, I'm okay. No nightmares, or anything like that. Just… twitchy, I guess."

"Twitchy?" he repeats, vaguely amused.

"I… I don't even know. It'll go away eventually. Probably soon." She doesn't sound too hopeful, though, and he isn't convinced.

"How long you been up for?" he asks. He's met with silence. "Ellie."

"A while," she says evasively. She can't see the disapproving look he's sending her, but he's sure she knows him well enough to at least feel it. "All night," she admits after a moment. "I was tired when we went to bed, but then I got all weird and wired and I didn't want to sleep at  _all_."

"Why?" he asks, and he's too goddamn tired to even realize how dumb of a question that is.

Ellie scoffs. "You think I'd still be awake if I knew?"

"You want to go to the other cot? Or I can move, I don't mind," he offers, shifting to get up and untangle their legs from each other's.

She grabs his arm quickly. "No," she says. "I want to stay with you."

"Alright." He scrubs his face, trying to force himself into some kind of alertness. "You wanna talk, or somethin'?" Sometimes she just needs to be listened to, and he likes to think he's getting pretty good at that.

"Thanks," she says, and her voice goes a little soft. "But… I don't think so. It's not one of those moods."

"Lord save me from teenage girls and their  _moods_ ," he mutters, but his tone is teasing, in the hopes of bringing a laugh or  _something_ out of her. It always worries him a little, when she gets all strange and antsy for whatever reason.

Ellie snorts, shoves him lightly. "Whatever. I'm a fucking delight, and you know it."

He hums thoughtfully. "Yeah, you're alright." That earns him another shove, and he considers retaliating for half a moment before an idea strikes him. He sits up, his hand fumbling along the wall for the light switch. There's a decent chance it might not work, depending on whether or not the dam's turbines are feeling generous tonight.

"Where are you going?" Ellie asks, and he feels her hand hovering just by his shoulder, like she's not sure if it's alright to touch him or not. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just gimme a second," he mutters. He finds the switch, and when he flicks it on the bedroom light flickers to life after a few seconds of delay. It's a little dull, but it'll work just fine for what he's got planned. "C'mon," he says, pushing himself to his feet.

"Why? What're we doing?" she asks, a little curious and a little cautious.

"We're gonna get rid of your jitters." He turns back, sees her skeptical look, and scoffs. "'Less you've got any better ideas?"

Her expression goes strange for a moment, and the light must be worse than he thought because her face looks a little darker than usual. "Nah," she says quickly. "I got nothing." She gets up and follows him to the middle of the bedroom floor. "Listen, if we're gonna wrestle, you might want something softer than the floor when I throw you on your ass."

He snorts. "You're less than half of me, girl. No way in hell you could land me on my ass." She gets that look on her face that always comes when she's challenged, and he waves her off. "We ain't wrestlin'. C'mere." He holds out one hand and pulls her closer when she takes it.

He sees a bit of recognition flash across her face, and knows she's thinking about another night not that long ago where they were in this very same position. She looks up at him curiously. "Are you serious? It's like, three in the morning. You wanna dance  _now_?" But she's already straightening up and trying to put her hands and her feet the way he taught her, so he takes that to mean she's going with it.

"Why not?" He shrugs. "Ain't like we've got nothin' better to do."

"You were literally asleep five minutes ago," she reminds him.

"I'm awake now," he counters. She could keep arguing, he knows, and send him back to bed because she feels guilty for waking him up. But she's got this little shine in her eyes that he can see even in the low light and he's got a feeling that she'll let it go.

"We don't have any music," she says.

"We didn't last time, either," he reminds her. "We'll figure it out."

Ellie snorts out a laugh. "I can't believe we're doing this. If anyone saw us, they'd think we're crazy."

"Ain't nobody here but us." And a selfish little -not little, not little at  _all_ but admitting that leads nowhere good- part of him is glad for it. No one else gets to see her with her hair pulled out of her usual ponytail, all soft smiles and drowning in the clothes she stole from him. "You might have an easier time in somethin' a little more your size," he muses.

She pulls the pants up, rolling her eyes in frustration when they just sag back down around her hips. "I like them, okay? They're comfortable."

"They're massive, is what they are," he says. "Or maybe you're just real tiny." He bites back a grin at the outraged expression that crosses her face. "Either way, you're gonna trip and break your neck if you ain't careful."

"You gonna keep insulting my clothes, or are we gonna dance?" Ellie asks.

"Technically, they're  _my_ clothes," he points out, just to needle her a little more. The look she gives him probably means a good sock in the arm if he doesn't stop running his stupid mouth. "Alright, alright. You remember anythin' from last time?" he asks.

She makes a face. "I remember making an idiot of myself in the first five seconds, yeah. But you didn't seem to mind, so…" She shrugs, a quick little smile going over her face. "I kinda remember where to put my hands. This would be  _way_ fucking easier if I was taller, though. Ugh, you're right. I  _am_ tiny."

"Want me to kneel down? Might be easier," he jokes, and she  _does_ sock him for that one. The hit is half-hearted at best, though, and he feels a bit like an ass for teasing her. "Tiny's good, though. Nothin' wrong with tiny." She shoots him a disbelieving look, and there's a lot of sappy crap he could probably say about how she's perfect just the way she is, but he's too tired to not be a goddamn coward and besides, he has a better idea. He nudges her foot with his, just smiles at her when she shoots him a strange look, nudges back. "C'mon, step up," he says.

She blinks, seeming like she's not quite sure if she's being screwed with. He takes her arm gently, pulls her forward so there's only a sliver of space between them. He nods encouragingly, and she shakes her head, a disbelieving little smile on her face as she steps onto his feet, gripping his arms for balance. "Sorry, they're probably cold," she mutters.

"You're fine," he assures her, and it's the truth. There's only warmth where they're touching. "Alright, now just… move with me. Try to keep your balance," he advises. She's a little nervous, a little unsteady at first, but she relaxes once he gets his arms around her and steadies her.

He starts to hum under his breath, and the smile fades, replaced with the same look she always gets when he sings or plays for her. It used to make him jumpy, at least at first; he was never good with audiences, even as a stupid kid, when he wanted to do it for a living. But now it just makes his chest ache, the way she looks at him like he's something special.

He lets one hand come up, tangle in the softness of her hair. She smiles, softer and more shy this time, but she leans into it and doesn't tell him to fuck off, so he doesn't pull his hand away. "Told you," he murmurs, easily maneuvering them around the bedroom. "Tiny's good." She ducks her head, bashful-like, her toes curling at the bases of his ankles. She looks back up and nods, her expression so goddamn earnest that it kills him.

 _Lucky bastard_ , he thinks to himself, but then she leans her head forward to rest against his chest and any other thoughts sorta just grind to a halt. He picks the song back up, quickly making up the tune when his memory fails him. She doesn't notice, or else doesn't mind. It's easy to just sink into the movement, the music, and he's sure he can stay like this until the sun comes up, if she needs him to.

The light flickers overhead, off and on and off again. He holds her a bit tighter when the dark descends, even though the door is locked up good and he knows nothing is inside the house but them. The light returns, and it finds his body curled protectively over her, just slightly. She notices; she peaks out from under the fringe of her hair, and it feels like she sees right through him.  _Instinct and old habits, nothin' more than that_ , he tells himself, more lies than truths in that thought. Because it's always like this,  _he's always like this_ , whether they're in safety or in the middle of a goddamn battlefield.

He  _knows_ she can hold her own, knows that she's strong, but she's also small enough that he can dance around a room and carry her weight like it's nothing, and still innocent enough to go awestruck at something as simple and easily given as a song. She warrants protecting, his girl. Her and all the soft, gentle parts of her that he wants to shield, for both their sake's.

 _Gettin' too far into your head, old man,_ he decides. It's too much, having her so close, more a part of him than not. He clears his throat to catch her attention. "Think you can try on your own?" he asks, doing his best to keep his voice level. She nods, even though her expression is a little uncertain. She steps down, and there's a loss of warmth that bites at him more than it should. She's watching her feet like she's worried they're going to act on their own, and he huffs a quiet laugh."Relax, Ellie," he says, not unkindly. "This is supposed to be fun."

She nods slowly, tilting her head up to look at him. "Don't look down, right?" she says, her mouth curling just a little at the edges.

"That's all there is to it," he agrees. He adjusts his grip so he can guide her with one hand and steady her with the other, and once she's got her bearings he starts to move. She follows well enough, only a little unsteady, and he sees the proud little smile she tries to hide.

It lasts for a handful of minutes, both of them moving in something close enough to rhythm as he adjusts every now and again to make it easier for her. Just long enough for them to relax a little, until she stumbles, her foot catching on the cuffs of her pants. She yelps, going tense as she braces for a fall. He steadies her, holding her against him until she regains her footing. "'S alright, I gotcha," he assures her. She stutters out a thank-you, her face flaming. He considers reminding her that he warned her, but she looks so mortified that he doesn't have the heart to pick on her.

"Wow, that was embarrassing," she mutters. "Let's just pretend that didn't happen, yeah?" She catches him looking at her, his smile barely suppressed, and she grimaces. "Oh, god. Please don't laugh."

"Ain't laughin'," he reassures her. "You're doin' just fine." She smiles awkwardly and shrugs her shoulders. "Wanna keep goin'?" he asks.

"Yeah," she agrees after a moment, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't pleased to hear it. "Can you maybe… the song that you were-" She cuts herself off with a wince. "It was nice," she finishes lamely, her eyes trained on her feet.

 _Can't even count how many nights it's been since I started singing' for her, and she_ still _thinks I'll turn her down,_ he thinks. "Now, what'd I say 'bout lookin' down?" he teases. She straightens up, still not quite looking at him, but she lets him move her back into place. He starts to hum again, picking the steps back up slowly to give her room to catch up. "You're gettin' good at this," he tells her after a while.

"Shut up," she mutters, but she's smiling a little at his words.

"It's the truth," he says. "Back up a bit." She does, frowning at him in confusion when he doesn't follow.

"What're you doing?" she asks, eyeing him with a mixture of wariness and amusement.

"What does it look like?" he asks. "Tryin' to twirl you." She gawks at him as he raises up an arm, taking hers with it. "Go on," he encourages.

For a second it looks like she's going to argue, but then she's laughing and throwing herself into the spin with her hair flying, and  _damn_ if it isn't the prettiest thing he's ever seen. She stops, sidestepping a little to get her balance and giggling like a child the whole time. "Would've looked better in some big, fancy-ass dress, huh?" she snorts.

"You looked fine," he says, and means every word.

And maybe she understands more than he gives her credit for, because then she's smiling big enough to blind and she's pulling him forward and saying, "Do it again." So he does, spins her around and watches her hair catch the light, and he's laughing right along with her and she keeps laughing and calling, "Again, again!" and it's loud and silly and a little bit perfect.

He only stops when she's teetering sideways, still hiccuping laughter when she stumbles against his chest. He holds her there, all warmth and happiness and light, and presses a kiss into the mess of her hair. The light flickers one last time, and fades completely overhead. He half-considers returning to bed when it becomes clear they'll stay in the dark, but then Ellie wraps her arms around him and he takes that to mean they're staying right where they are.

He picks the melody back up, feels her smile even if he can't see it. She nudges him a little, and he takes the hint and starts moving again. "What's it about?" she asks. "The song?"

"Can't remember," he mutters. "Some old country thing."

"Meaning it's either about some dude and his truck, or a love song," she says.

He snorts. "If you wanna make it simple, then yeah."

"So which is it?" she asks.

"Told you, I can't remember." There's a pause, and he clears his throat quietly. "Wasn't ever that fond of trucks, though."

He feels her grip on his shirt tighten. "You're a  _huge_  sap; you know that, right?" she asks, but there's a fondness to her teasing that makes him hold her a bit tighter. "I don't mind, though," she says as he picks the tune back up, her voice a little quieter. She chooses that moment to step on his toes, hard enough to jar him out of tune, and she groans. "Aw,  _fuck_. I was doing good this time!"

And she just sounds so put out that he can't help himself from laughing, and there's a beat of silence from her and then she's burying her face in his shirt to try and muffle the sound as she cracks up, too.

"How's the jitters?" he asks when they can catch their breathe again. "Any better?"

"I dunno," she says, and he can hear the smile in her voice as she leans into him. "Maybe we should stay here a little longer, just to make sure?"

And it's a good thing it's dark, because he'd never hear the end of it if she saw his stupid grin. "Fine by me."


End file.
